


Comfort and Sickness

by Nativestar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fevers, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nativestar/pseuds/Nativestar
Summary: A collection of short fics based on sick whump scenarios from tumblr.
Comments: 82
Kudos: 103





	1. Sleepy Wanderings

**Author's Note:**

> These were all written for the 'send a symbol, get a drabble' sick whump scenarios posted by Whumpbox on Tumblr. I'm cross-posting here for those who aren't on Tumblr and because AO3 is a better place to archive fic than Tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Starrylizard: ❥: barefoot, sleepy wanderings

The thing about a sofa was that it could never be as comfortable as a bed. It made falling into a deep sleep really difficult, but was particularly useful for government agents who needed rest but also needed to stay alert for any disturbances.

Like the sound of a door quietly being opened just before sunrise.

Like the sound of bare feet padding down a hallway.

Jack rolled over as Mac came around the corner, eyes closed and holding a pinch of a frown between them. He was rocking a serious case of bedhead and with the loose t-shirt and sweatpants, looked more like a sleepy teenager than a guy pushing thirty.

“Mac? You okay?”

“Mmm.” Mac opened his eyes, squinting at Jack in the dim light. “Jack? What’re you doing here?”

“It got late, decided to crash here. Plus, you’re sick and no one should be sick alone.” They’d already had this conversation, several times over. Mac insisting he was okay by himself and Jack finding reasons to stay a bit longer until it got so late that Mac simply stopped arguing.

“Bozer--”

“Is visiting his folks, remember?” Jack questioned how awake Mac really was.

“Right.” Mac said with no hint of actual recollection and it only seemed to confirm Jack’s sleepwalking theory. Mac’s cheeks were still flushed and Jack sneaked a look at his watch, wondering if it was time for more meds. A bit early, but not by much.

“How’re you feeling, bud?”

Mac had closed his eyes again and he didn’t answer for a moment, making Jack wonder if he’d actually fallen asleep standing up.

“Don’t feel good. Headache. And it’s too hot to sleep.”

“It’s not too hot, _you’re_ too hot.”

  
“You’re not my type, Jack.”

“Very funny, big guy.” Jack swung his legs around and sat up, stretching. He smiled at the bad joke despite himself, maybe Mac wasn’t as out of it as he appeared. Mac hovered where he was for a moment as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to to do before he leaned against the wall and started to slide down it. Jack was on his feet, alarmed, before he realised it was a controlled slide, not a collapse.

“What’re you doing, Mac?”

“Floor’s cold. S’nice.”

“That may be, but it’s no place for sick people.” Jack crossed the room and gently tugged on Mac’s arm, helping him to his feet. “C’mon, bud. Why don’t you try the sofa and I’ll get you something cold to drink. Its about time for some more meds too.”

Mac had shut his eyes again and he let Jack navigate him around the table to the sofa.

“Sit. I’ll be right back.”

Jack rummaged in the fridge, rolling his eyes with a smile at the labelled containers of food Bozer had left for them.

“Hey, Mac. You hungry?”

Silence.

Jack turned around to find Mac had curled up in his spot on the sofa, his features relaxed and his breathing deep and even. Jack shook his head fondly, he pulled the blanket out from under Mac’s feet and covered him with it before settling in the armchair. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Mac was restless again and wandering about. But that didn’t matter, the thing about an armchair was that it could never be as comfortable as a bed.


	2. Patient Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from impossiblepluto: + being led back to bed with patient whispers

It feels like Mac’s only just fallen asleep when he’s woken by Riley shaking his arm.

“Mac, I’m sorry to wake you. But Jack needs you.”

“Wha’s wrong?” Mac asks as he tries to wake up, grunting as his bruises remind him why moving is a bad idea right now. He winces as the neat row of stitches in his side pulls as he sits up, swinging his legs off the hospital bed he’d appropriated. Mac had returned from their last mission with a prescription for painkillers and a course of antibiotics. Jack had unfortunately returned with a raging infection which had earned him a hospital admission.

“His fever’s up again. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s back in Afghanistan. He won’t go back to bed.”

The fever had cast Jack’s mind back to the worst day they’d shared in the sandbox, a day nearly as bad as Cairo. Mac wasn’t sure what exactly had triggered it but he’d spent most of the night reassuring Jack he was safe, that they were both safe, and to please, _please_ get some rest. Jack had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep and with the hope that he would sleep through until morning, Mac had traded places with Riley and searched out a bed.

He should have known they wouldn’t be that lucky.

Mac finds Jack exactly where Riley said he was, wedged into the most  defensible corner of the room.  He’s crouching, ready to fight although Mac’s pretty sure Jack would be  about  as much of a threat as a kitten right now. Especially as he’s rubbing his forehead with his  eyes shut and he  has n’t even notice d Mac’s in the room.

“Jack?”

Wide, glassy eyes fix on Mac as he crouches down to Jack’s level.

“Mac?” Jack whispers. “They told me you were dead.”

“They were wrong.” Mac replies gently. “Remember? They assumed I was dead, and you told them in no uncertain terms what happens when you assume.”

Jack had been livid. And determined.

“Then I came and got you.” Jack remembers. It’s a lot quicker than the last time Mac had to do this and he hopes it means Jack’s improving.

“Even though you should have been in a hospital bed yourself.” Mac continues quietly. “Just like you should be right now.”

Jack’s silent and Mac waits patiently while he processes this.

“I don’t feel good, Mac.” He mutters.

“I know,” Mac says. “Lets get you back to bed, get some rest, you’ll feel better.”

Jack nods but doesn’t move.

“You okay?” Jack asks.

“I’m good. It’s my turn to worry about you for once.” Mac reaches out a hand. “C’mon.”

Jack takes his hand and Mac pulls him up, unable to avoid sucking in a sharp breath when he has to take more of Jack’s weight than he expects.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Cuts and bruises, pal. That’s all.” Mac reassures, counting his blessings when Jack just accepts it. “C’mon. Few steps to the bed, then you can get some rest.”

“I sleep, you sleep?” Jack whispers.

“Sure.”

Neither of them say anything until Jack’s tucked back into bed. With his eyes finally shut and his breathing evening out, Mac is about to back out the room when Jack stirs one last time.

“I’m glad you’re not dead, Mac.”

He’d said the same thing to Mac back in Afghanistan. Although their roles had been reversed, with Jack standing next to Mac’s bed instead.

Mac smiles. “I’m glad you’re not dead too, Jack.”


	3. Waiting Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from mischiellis: ! that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

Riley had thought she’d known what it was like to feel helpless. Then she’d started working for the Phoenix Foundation and was forced to redefine a lot of things. And then forty eight hours ago Mac had disappeared from a crime scene. Now she had to watch via a hacked camera feed two of the most important people in her life struggle to survive.

They’d found Mac. At last.

That was the good news, the bad news was Jack had found him bound and barely conscious next to a bomb large enough to take out the entire building. Which was full of people, including children.

Normally, Riley would have every faith in Mac defusing the bomb in the six minutes fifty two seconds remaining. But normally, Mac wasn’t pale and stumbling, shaking and exhausted.

Mac’s voice was wrecked. She didn’t want to think about why. Jack had tried getting Mac to sit down and just tell him what to do but his croaky whispers kept giving way to chest rattling coughs and his hand gestures led to frustration pushing him back to his feet.

Instead Jack hovered by his side, a steadying hand here, grabbing that rope for him there. Every time Mac staggered across the room Jack was by his side, making sure he didn’t fall. Doing what he could to help based off a lifetime of watching his kid work. She’d rarely seen Jack so focused as he tried to follow what Mac was doing, maintaining a balance between trying to do the work for him and avoiding getting in the way.

The only sound on their comms was Jack’s voice. A constant litany of support and encouragement.

“You’re doing good, kid.”

“I see what you’re doing there.”

“Here, this is what you need, right?”

Then. Finally. _Finally._ The tiny red numbers froze at forty two seconds. Riley sighed in relief and dropped her head into her hands.

“You done?” Jack asked.

Mac’s mouth lifted up into a  tired half smile. He nodded.  Jack wrapped an arm around Mac’s shoulders, grinning proudly. And  then  Mac went down. Like someone had cut his strings, he collapsed into Jack’s arms. Jack staggered slightly, but he  looked like he  had been expecting i t as he  calmly and  gently lowered them both to the ground ke e p ing Mac in his arms  and off the floor.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you now. You can rest.” He said softly, then raised his voice. “Riley?”

“On it.” She replied.

Now.

_Now._ She could do something. Even if was only to be present and call in the cavalry. She flung open the surveillance van’s doors and lead the waiting medics to her family.


	4. Shaky Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime season 2. Prompt from marshmallow-de-alfazema: # shaky hands

There was something off about the kid today. Mac looked pale and he had spent the day either snapping at Jack or just too damn quiet for Jack’s liking. After a long week both of them were beyond exhausted, but Jack knew if he’d been burning the candle at both ends, then Mac had been burning it at both ends _and_ the middle.

Jack was half listening to Matty on the sat phone, something about debrief and urgent and ex-fil arrangements. He glanced back to check on Mac’s progress at dismantling his… whatever the doohicky was, and realised there was definitely a problem.

Mac’s hands were shaking.

Mac’s hands _never_ shook.

Jack swore under his breath.

“What was that Dalton?” Matty asked sharply.

“Uh-nothing. Just… this debrief, can we do it tomorrow? It’s been a long day already.”

Matty paused a moment and Jack hoped she would realise he wasn’t asking for himself.

“Fine, we’ll do it tomorrow.” Her voice softened. “Make it the afternoon.”

“Thanks, Matty.”

He hung up and turned back to Mac.

“Hey, you doing okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. You should be watching my back, not me.” Mac said, still snapping at Jack but without much heat behind his words, as if he was just too tired. Yeah, Jack saw that one coming. The kid was always ‘fine’. But he had learned a few tricks along the way, like how Mac couldn’t argue against hard evidence.

“Uh huh. Hold out your hand.” He ordered.

Mac glared at Jack as he clenched and stretched his hand before giving in and holding it out flat. The tremors were clear. This time it was Mac swearing under his breath.

“Move over.” He nudged Mac’s shoulder with his knee.

“I’m nearly finished.” Mac refused to budge.

“I know. Tell me what to do and I’ll be your hands. Then we’re heading home, bud.”

Mac shook his head. "Need to debrief."

“Not today.”

Mac sighed and shifted himself over so he was sitting to the side, leaning against the wall. Jack knelt in Mac’s spot, studying Mac’s face for the first time in the last half hour. He looked exhausted, pale with blood shot eyes. There was a lack of energy too, Mac had dragged himself out the way rather than expend any effort into moving.

“What’s going on, pal?”

Mac shrugged, then ducked out of the way as Jack tried to feel his forehead.

“I haven’t got a fever, Jack. I’m not sick.”

“Then why were your hands shaking?”

“Dunno.” Mac mumbled and shrugged again. “Low blood sugar?”

Well, that was easily solved. Jack dug out a protein bar from his pack and gave it to Mac. He doubted that was the real problem though. He suspected the real problem had something to do with sinking ships and missing fathers. Mac’s reaction had been to work harder, faster, longer, and despite Jack’s attempts to put the brakes on and avoid… well, something like this, he’d clearly not tried hard enough.

Jack formulated a plan in his head. Pizza, beer, a movie so familiar that they could both quote whole swathes of dialogue and a comfortable sofa for starters. Jack might not be able to find missing fathers or stop ships from sinking but he knew how to look out for his boy and he was damned good at his job.


	5. Running Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from flowing-river24: ʃ fingers running through sweaty hair

Mac came awake flailing. Long arms and legs scrabbling for leverage against anything and nothing. Searching out for something familiar and safe in the darkness.

Jack reacted quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

It was pointless and futile but Jack couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter if Mac’s eyes were covered by bandages or that his hearing was gone from the shock wave, he was still going to talk to Mac. The doctors said it was temporary, and who knew when some of it would start to filter through.

He pinned Mac’s arms against himself which took far too little effort and manoeuvred himself behind him so he was resting against his chest. Mac pushed back with his legs, bashing his head into Jack’s chin but Jack wasn’t letting him get anywhere.

Mac must have realised that too because he suddenly stopped moving. So sudden that Jack though for a moment he might have passed out. He either realised how useless it was to keep fighting or he recognised who was holding him. Jack hoped it was the latter, but the fever had dulled Mac’s mind and messed with his reality.

Jack gently released Mac’s arms, but he didn’t try to move, just laid lax and exhausted in Jack’s arms, his breath still hitching occasionally.

“Oh, Mac.” Jack sighed.

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to calm Mac down tonight. And every time it got harder, harder to see the terror and confusion in Mac’s face, harder to hear his cries of pain and fear.

He continued to hold Mac loosely with one arm as tears slipped down Jack’s face to mingle with the sweat in Mac’s hair and he brought his hand up to run his fingers through it.

The fever and hearing loss was temporary but it was a wait-and-see game with Mac’s eyes. And no timeline for how long Jack would have to repeat this routine before there was improvement.

“Jack?”

Jack froze at the sound of Mac’s shaky voice.

“If that’s you, don’t stop.” Mac whispered.

Jack resumed running his fingers through Mac’s hair while Mac’s hand found his other one where it rested on his chest. He felt Mac investigate, exploring the shape of it and running his fingers over his gun calluses. Satisfied, Mac sighed and finally relaxed, the tension bleeding away from him.

Mac knew he was safe, cared for and loved. And really, that was all Jack had ever wanted Mac to know.


	6. Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was ever a time that Mac would have a strong aversion to needles, it would be after X-Ray+Penny... Prompt from kaykay8776: ≈ medicine. For Mac. He has to get needles and he’s sick, miserable and acting like a baby about it.

Jack could hear raised voices from halfway down the corridor in medical. His heart sank as he suspected he knew what he was going to find and as he got closer he could hear that one of the voices was indeed Mac.

“No! I’ll sign myself out AMA if I have to.”

Jack couldn’t hear the reply but he definitely heard Mac’s response to it.

“It has nothing to do with not liking needles!”

Jack entered the room and found Mac sat rigidly on the bed, glaring at a new guy who didn’t look old enough to have completed medical school.

“Your temperature is elevated Mr Macgyver, and given the time between your injury and seeking medical treatment its likely you have an infection.”

“It wasn’t exactly by choice!”

Jack had heard enough.

“Hey!” He raised his voice over the arguing. “Time out. What’s going on here?”

Both of them started speaking together, their words falling on top of each other.

“Alright! Alright!” Jack raised his hands. “Can you give us a moment?” Jack asked the doctor, who nodded and once he’d left, Jack turned back to Mac.

“What’s going on, bud? You trying to scare the new recruits away? Doc Wilkes actually likes this one, said he had potential.”

“He’s potentially an idiot.” Mac countered.

Jack tried to smother a smile, he always enjoyed a snarky Mac but now wasn’t the time. Right now he needed to figure out why his exhausted and bruised partner, who was sporting a freshly stitched stab wound in his side was picking a fight with his doctor.

“Okay, but you don’t normally yell at idiots, you out-science them so what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m fine.”

Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, not _fine_ fine. But I don’t need to be here. Give me some oral antibiotics and a bottle of water and I’ll be fine.”

“And I’m guessing the man with the medical degree disagrees with your diagnosis.”

Mac rolled his eyes and Jack marvelled how Mac could still manage the sullen teenager look at twenty seven. Mac heaved a huge sigh, before wincing and pressing a hand over his bandaged side. He dropped his head and brought his other arm across his body, hugging himself.

“I don’t want to be here, Jack.”

And dammit, Jack couldn’t remember a time when Mac had sounded more miserable.

“I know you don’t, pal.”

Jack sighed.

“Mac? Promise me you won’t pull any Houdini stunts while I go speak to the doctor?”

Mac shrugged, but Jack wasn’t going to leave until he got more than that. “I promise. No Houdini.”

Jack was actually kinda surprised Mac hadn’t simply walked out already, but it probably had something to do with the fact he hadn’t made it _in_ on his own steam and wasn’t likely to make it out by himself neither.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mac caught snippets of the conversation in the corridor.

_I know you haven’t been here long…_

_...incident last month…._

_...drugged against his will…_

Mac stopped listening. He’d lived it, he didn’t need the reminder. He was however, a little surprised that Jack had picked up that he didn’t want the IV more than he didn’t want to stay.

After a few minutes, Jack came back in and clapped his hands.

“Okay, bud. I’ve negotiated your release for you.”

“Thank you.” Mac said dryly. He refrained from pointing out they wouldn’t have been able to keep him here either way.

“But there’s a compromise.”

Mac grimaced, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

“You get to take the IV home with you.”

“Jaack.” Mac complained.

“Sorry, kid. I tried, but the Doc explained it with all these scary long words of what could happen if you don’t. Long story short, you do need this and they can’t give it to you as a pill.”

Mac was too tired to argue any more.

“Yeah. Okay.” The fight had depleted his reserves and deep down, in the part of mind that was pure science and logic, he knew they were right. He’d take the half-win.

Jack nodded and a nurse came over with the kit as Mac meekly offered up his arm.

“Hey, Mac. I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’s the deal with the second law of thermodynamics?”

That was… not what Mac was expecting. He cocked his head and looked at Jack. “Who are you and what have you done with Jack Dalton?”

“Very funny. I heard someone in the lab blame their messy house on the second law, it had empathy?”

“Entropy Jack, the second law states that the entropy of an isolated system will always increase over time.” At Jack’s blank look he went on. “Basically the chaos of the universe will always increase, or the messiness of a house--”

“Done.” The nurse said.

“What?” Mac looked at his arm. Sure enough, there was a perfectly placed IV securely taped in place. “Oh.”

As if on cue, another nurse came in with a wheelchair.

Mac glared.

“That’s non-negotiable.” Jack said.

As much as Mac hated it, he realised he didn’t have the energy to fight it and it wouldn’t be worth the battle neither. He slipped carefully off the bed and the few steps it took him to get to the chair made him realise he probably did need it this time.

“Thanks,” Mac said as he sat, meeting Jack’s eyes and hoping Jack could see in them the gratitude that Mac couldn’t quite put into words. He didn’t have to ask to know that Jack had already volunteered to keep an eye on him and stay up to manage the IV doses for him.

“You’re welcome.” Jack said, nodding. _Message received._ “Now lets get out of here.”

Mac could already feel the tension start to drain from him at those words, he pulled his arm in closer and absent-mindedly started to pick at the tape on his arm.

“So let me get this straight, the more empathy a house has, the messier it is?”

Mac rolled his eyes, it was going to take all the remaining bits of his concentration to explain this one to Jack on the ride home.


	7. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from waitingforthestarstofall: ✈ reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]

His head was throbbing, his body ached and he was hot and uncomfortable. And that was only what Mac noticed in the first few seconds of waking up. A bed. A hospital, his mind supplied, then stopped.

He pinched his eyes firmly shut, even closed he was aware of the daylight and that opening them would ratchet up the pain in his head, just like the noise from the heart monitor was piercing it. It sounded fast, too fast for someone just lying in bed. He tried to breathe through the pain, short breaths making the most of the oxygen through the cannula that he could feel itching his nose.

He tried to remember what happened but his thoughts were skimming over his mind like rocks over water. He couldn’t hold on to any of them.

Sharp images, one after another after another after-- nausea bubbled up and he swallowed it down. A fireball, the ground coming up to meet his head (too fast, its too fast) the sky filled with birds, filled with debris, filled with...

You go kaboom, I go kaboom.

Words so familiar he wasn’t sure if he was hearing them in his memories or right now. He hadn’t been alone. You’re never alone.

He reached out a hand, brushing over cotton until his hand fell away from the bed.

“Jack...” He mumbled.

If Jack was there then Jack would be here. That made sense. That was the only thing that made sense.

A warm, strong hand grasped his, Mac tried to remember what Jack’s hand felt like but there was a blank space in his mind, a Jack shaped hole, a memory misplaced (not lost). He couldn’t lose Jack.

“Jack.” He whispered as he slipped backwards, falling into the dark space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack groaned, a low rumble in the back of his throat, as he tried to figure what had hit him.

A car?

A fist? (Fists?)

A bomb?

Wait, that last one? A bomb. Shit. Skinny little bomb nerds and explosions and… and now he was floating, the pain nestling just beneath the surface. This was familiar. This was… what happened when bad guys set off explosions too near the good guys. This was a dry mouth and his I-lost-count-how-many surgeries and the syrupy mess his thoughts always were as he came out of anaesthesia.

This was not good.

Surgery wasn’t good, but this was more than just not good.

It niggled at the back of his mind.

This was… skinny little bomb nerds and explosions and if Jack had been exploded then Mac had probably been a bit exploded too except Jack was damned good at protecting his bomb nerds so maybe Mac was only a little bit exploded. Maybe he was here.

He hadn’t tried opening his eyes yet, they were just too heavy. His entire body felt too heavy.

“Mac?” His voice slurred, it didn’t matter, Mac always understood him.

He pushed his hand out, reaching, searching, hoping.

A warm, strong hand grasped his. Jack sighed in relief. Mac was there. He was safe. He was-- not Mac? His brain caught up. Too small, too feminine. Riley?

That was okay.

Riley was good too.

Riley was smart like Mac.

Riley would know where Mac was.

But even Riley couldn’t stop Jack’s thoughts from skittering away back into a drugged sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Bozer’s charm, Riley’s sweet talking, a phone call from Matty and Jack falling out of bed to convince the medical staff that moving Mac and Jack into the same room was not only the best decision for their patients but also for themselves.

Riley curled up in a chair next to the two beds while Bozer napped, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee one of the nurses had brought her. Mac and Jack were both resting peacefully but Riley knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them stirred.

This time when they reached out for each other, there wouldn’t a substitute.


	8. Blankets and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Nade2308: Both 'the crinkle of blankets when being tucked in extra good' and 'comfort after a nightmare'
> 
> Also, warning for temporary major character death.

Mac struggled put into words how he was feeling. Hollow. Empty. Guilty. Anxious. He wanted to run and keep on running. Never stop. Stopping meant dealing with this and this was too big. And it _hurt_ , like nothing had ever hurt before.

He took a deep breath. He was stood behind a large oak tree, keeping himself obscured. He should still be in the hospital and he felt unsteady but he refused to let himself lean against the trunk, he didn’t deserve that, he didn’t even deserve to be _here_ but how could he be anywhere else? He’d thought Riley’s funeral had been hard, but he didn’t know half her family, not like Bozer’s. He’d shared holidays with them. Sat at their dinner table. Been welcomed into their family like one of their own.

And this was how he repaid them?

It was his fault they were all gathered here today.

There was still one more funeral to go. He wondered if that might be the straw that breaks him.

“You have some nerve showing up here.”

Mac swung around.

Matty.

“They’re all dead because of you. You and your improvisations.” There was no anger behind her voice, anger would be easier to deal with, it was disappointment and disgust. “I always knew your luck would run out, but I thought it would be your death on my hands, not their deaths on yours.”

Suddenly, Bozer, Riley and Jack appeared behind Matty. Covered in blood, dirt and bullet holes. Betrayal on their faces. Mac gasped. He was losing his mind, the one thing he had left.

“Why didn’t you save us, Mac?”

“You save everyone else, why not us?”

“Thought we meant something to you, hoss.”

“No.” Mac cried. “This wasn’t supposed to-- I’m sorry.”

He turned, and to his shame, ran. He couldn’t do this. He tripped and fell, staggering to his feet only to fall again. Each time his team mates surrounded him. Demanding answers. Shouting his name.

“Mac!”

“Mac!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mac!”

Mac gasped, bolting upright and straight into Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re alright.” He grasped Mac’s shoulders loosely, trying to meet his eyes as they darted unfocused around the room. “That one was a doozy, huh?”

“Jack?” Mac said, his voice confused and tinted with desperation.

“Yeah, you okay, hoss? Took a while to wake you up there.”

Suddenly Jack found himself engulfed in a desperate adrenaline fuelled hug. On reflex he returned it, offering a tight one in return when it became clear how much Mac needed it.

“Mac? You okay?”

“I am now.” Mac whispered.

Mac pulled back and Jack let him, putting the back of his hand on Mac’s forehead.

“Good news, your temperature seems to be down.”

“That’s not exactly accurate Jack.”

Jack gestured to the field first aid kit spread out on the table in the corner of the safe house. It was designed for trauma more than illness. “For some reason it didn’t have a thermometer so you’ll have to put up with it.”

Mac looked around, as if he’d forgotten where they were and Jack swore there was almost relief in his eyes. He also saw the moment Mac noticed the IV in his arm as he scowled and reached to pull it out.

“Hey, hey, that stays, buddy.” Jack put his hand over Mac’s and guided it away. “I had the Phoenix docs on the phone, and they were none to happy with your blood pressure.”

Mac sighed, slumping on the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” Jack asked carefully.

“No.” Mac said firmly but there was a look in Mac’s eyes that made Jack wonder if he should push the issue, before he could say anything though, Mac continued. “I’m awake now, you should get some rest, I’ll take over the watch.”

Jack chuckled.

“We’re in a safe house, Mac.” On Mac’s blank look he added, “I’m not watching the perimeter I’m watching you.”

“While I sleep? That’s a bit creepy, Jack.”

Jack just shrugged. One man’s creepy was another man’s protective.

“Speaking of sleep, you should probably get some more.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” Mac muttered.

“Then just close your eyes. Weren’t you telling me the other week that just laying and resting was better than nothing.” Jack pulled the blanket back up tucking it firmly around Mac’s arm just in case he got any more ideas about taking out the IV. Giving one final tug on the blanket, Jack pulled his arm back, but Mac snaked out his free hand and grasped his forearm lightly.

Mac swallowed, not meeting his eyes and trying too hard to keep his breathing calm and easy.

Jack knew he could make an excuse to stay sat where he was on the bed, like the IV would be finished soon or he needed to take Mac’s vitals, but they were alone and they both knew what Mac needed without it being discussed.

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy.”

Mac didn’t relinquish his hold, but smiled softly and closed his eyes.


	9. Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Starrylizard: If you're really after more and don't mind me double dipping in this whump!fest how about: ➥: nap 
> 
> Summary: After an explosion on a mission, Mac is injured and trapped underground, trying to figure a way out. Luckily, he has company.

“Mac.”

_“Mac.”_

_“Maaac.”_

Mac sighed. Apparently, ignoring Jack wasn’t going to work this time.

“I thought you wanted to get out of here?” Mac said.

“’Course I do.”

“Then let me work.”

Jack had been a constant voice of both distraction and encouragement ever since Mac had cleared the debris away from the door and found Jack in the corridor outside it. His happiness had been short lived; Jack wasn’t his rescue. Jack had been hobbling on a clearly broken leg using a length of piping as a crutch and the exit corridor was completely blocked by the collapsed ceiling. Mac had made him sit down against the most stable looking wall and ordered him not to move. An order that Jack had surprised him by obeying.

Mac paced with a limp, the pain from a deep laceration in his leg burned, billowing with each step as he tried to avoid the metal and debris that littered the floor. He knew what Jack wanted. He wanted him to sit down, rest up a bit and give his body a break while his brain did its thing. But Mac needed the pain to focus right now, he didn’t want to admit it to Jack but his thoughts were becoming disjointed, like water slipping through his fingers. Or the blood seeping through his bandage.

The solution was there, he knew it was, it was just outside his reach. He ran through idea after idea, dismissing each one almost as quickly as he came up with it. They were six floors underground, each solution was just as likely to bring the rest of the floors down on them as it was to offer them a route to freedom.

“You need to rest.”

“I will, as soon as I get this figured out.”

“Mac, we’ve been down here for over a day. A few more hours isn’t going to be the difference between life and death.”

“You don’t know that.” Mac countered, he had a feeling Jack was going to need surgery on that leg and the longer he went without treatment the more likely there would be complications. Perhaps permanent. “Sooner we get out the better.”

“I know. You can’t stay down here much longer.”

“What?”

“That leg ain’t good, hoss.” Jack pointed out seriously.

Mac dropped his head. Busted.

“Yeah, I uh-- I’m pretty sure its infected.” Mac looked at Jack. “Which is another reason why I can’t stop. If I don’t finish this we don’t get out.”

“If it means watching you work yourself to death, then I don’t want to get out.” Jack patted the floor next to him as an invitation. “I mean the décor could use some work but if we clean up the place, lick of paint… it’ll be just like home.”

Mac huffed a laugh. _Home._ He wished he was home right now.

“Well, your home, not mine.” Jack continued. “Not with all the broken doo-dads and junk around here.”

Mac paused in his pacing and stood with his hands on his hips, keeping his weight on his good leg. Normally, Jack’s background chatter helped him think but it was an effort just to stay focused on _anything_ right now. He wasn’t going to say it but, there was a chance Jack was right and a little rest might buy him some clarity.

“Seriously dude, how long have you been awake now?”

“I slept after I cleared the doorway and found you.” Mac muttered.

“You passed out. That’s not sleeping.”

“Semantics.” Mac dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“And how long ago was _that_?”

“I don’t remember.” Mac whispered.

“You’re making my point, Mac.” Jack said. “How long before you start making a mistake that brings the rest of this down on our heads? Or start hallucinating?”

Mac shook his head, trying to remember what he’d been doing before Jack distracted him.

“I’m not--” Where was that rebar? Had he--? There. On the floor. How--? Mac took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His thoughts were getting beyond muddled.

He looked at Jack, his anchor point whenever the world stopped making sense. Jack’s eyes were knowing, like he could read every thought in Mac’s head and knew how much he was struggling.

“Sit down, kid. It’s time to sleep now.”

Mac stumbled to the wall and sat down, ignoring the feeling of defeat as he wedged himself between a dented filing cabinet and Jack. The wall was cool on his back and he tipped his forehead to rest on the cold metal of the filing cabinet. It was getting warm in here. He closed his eyes, surprised that Jack wasn’t taking the opportunity to check his temperature or pulse but grateful for his restraint for once.

“Five minutes, Jack. I just need five minutes. Promise you’ll wake me...”

* * *

“Mac.”

_“Mac.”_

He blearily opened heavy eyelids to see Riley kneeling next to him. Desi stood behind her and both were wearing identical looks of concern on their dirt smudged faces.

“There you are.” Riley said with a smile.

“You scared us, Mac.” Desi added.

He sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself as he realised he was still underground, except now the room was filled with his friends and the bright uniforms of rescue workers. He had an oxygen mask on his face and Mac clumsily lifted a hand to dislodge it but he was moving slow and Riley easily intercepted it with her own. Her hand was cool on his but Mac couldn’t tell if he was too hot or she was too cold.

“Leave it.” Riley was firm. “You need that. The air in here is still a little thin and your oxygen levels were low.”

He frowned. Oxygen? Trying to pull up his memories was like dragging them through mud. Trapped underground. Moving rubble. Jack.

_Jack._

“Where’s Jack?” He mumbled.

“Jack?” Riley repeated.

“Jack’s not here, Mac.” Desi said slowly. _Carefully._

“What do you mean, Jack’s not here? He has a broken leg, he can’t have gone far. You need to find him, he needs--” Mac stopped, his breath faltering in his lungs as remembered.

Jack wasn’t on this mission.

Jack had _never_ been on this mission.

Whether it was the infection, low oxygen, exhaustion or a combination of all three, Mac suddenly realised that Jack had never been anything more than a comforting figment of his mind. And while Mac was pleased that Jack hadn’t been injured and in danger with him, a part of him felt betrayed at the loss.

“Mac?” Riley asked worried.

“It’s okay.” Mac reassured her. “You can stop looking at me like that. Jack’s not here, I know, I was just… confused for a moment.”

Neither of them seemed satisfied with that answer, but they let it go, for now at least.

“The engineers said that what you did shifted things and gave us an opening to get to you, but it also cut off your only air supply. I’m sorry we took so long to get to you, Mac. We were almost too late.” Riley explained.

Mac nodded, barely processing what Riley was telling him as he still tried to accept that Jack hadn’t been there, that his mind had re-created a perfectly convincing Jack to… what? Encourage him to keep going? But no, all Jack had done was try to get Mac to stop at the end, to rest, to sleep, to--

_Oxygen consumption decreases during sleep._

Oh.

_Oh._

Mac smiled, ignoring the look Riley give him as she traded places with a medic intent on checking him out now that he was awake. After all these years, he really shouldn’t be surprised that even in his own mind, Jack still found a way to look out for Mac and watch his back.

“Thanks, Jack.” He whispered.


End file.
